


we're still dying in vain

by saltwatersweets



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Manslaughter, March 1st spoilers, Pandora's Vault Prison, Unhappy Ending, c!dream is fucked up massively quite honestly, oh god its canonical now. fuck, references to animal death, references to self destructive behavior, this ones a dark one boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29815545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwatersweets/pseuds/saltwatersweets
Summary: There are a million things that Dream and Tommy are.Independence, or death. That's what Wilbur had said.In the end, Tommy gets both.
Kudos: 16





	we're still dying in vain

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE read the tags, this one is really dark. i literally speedran this shit lmao. anyways if there are any warnings you think i should add, please tell me, i really would like to add them and would appreciate it so much 
> 
> also, if any of the ccs state that they are uncomfortable with fics of this nature, i will take this down immediately. and this should go without saying but this is all based of the characters in the dream smp, not tommy and dream in real life.
> 
> title from derivakat's amazing song [ain't no crying](https://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2mIWJWi4Bhk&t=0s&ab_channel=Derivakat/)

There are a million things that Dream and Tommy are. 

They are strong fists and even stronger words, screaming and crying and yelling out blows that they think would hurt the other person the most. They slap at the each other’s face and rip out chunks of hair, scrambling to win an impossible fight like animals killing each other over prey. 

They are yelling, shrieking, and the furthest thing from graceful. They are mean, angry, screeching out obscenities and hearing them echo off the cold obsidian walls. They always have and always will bring out the worst in each other. Tommy’s nail scratches against his cheek, and he feels his forcibly unmasked face sting as a drop of liquid rolls down to his chin. 

Dream pushes him to the ground, and he hates him, he _hates_ him, Tommy is the worst and best thing to happen to him in this absolute nightmare of a prison. The fucking pest doesn’t _stop,_ still clawing at him like the cat he killed. Dream hits him, once, twice, and Tommy grins stupidly at him as he bleeds, as they both bleed. 

_I’ve seen his grave, I’ve seen his corpse, you-_

He needs to be quiet. He needs to be quiet. He needs to be quiet just be quiet he needs to be quiet for once in his goddamn life. 

_Why don’t you go_ see him then.

Dream hits him and doesn’t stop, bangs his head against the wall and floor just like he had banged his own head against it for entertainment, just to do something. And suddenly words of scathing mockery and anger turn into words of panic, _you won’t fucking kill me_ turns into _wait, wait stop it stop it stop it_ and Dream can’t bring himself to care as he practically throws himself against him, blow after blow after blow, until he hears and feels a sickening crunch, and the pleas stop. 

The room is finally quiet, finally quiet. The only things he hears are his own labored breathing, and the soft bubbling molten lava a few feet away. The only thing he sees is so much red, so so much red.

 _Get up._ He says. _Get up now. This isn’t finished._

The crumpled form in front of him does not move. Idiot. He never listens. 

_Get UP. NOW._

_Come on, get up. This isn’t finished, Tommy. This isn’t_ funny, _Tommy. Get up right now or I swear to God I’ll- I’ll-_

He’ll- 

He has nothing. He had to lose everything to gain everything, and he has nothing. 

He stares at his hands. There is so much red. There is too much red. 

Tommy’s chest does not rise nor fall, and he does not move or listen or hear, and Dream knows instantly that he’s killed him. 

The one person he wasn’t planning on killing is dead. 

He will never have the discs again. They will be forever Tommy’s. He will never be able to control him again. Tommy is free. Tommy has won. 

And it’s all so fucking _hilarious._

He laughs, and laughs, hears it echo off the walls back into his ears like music, like an unfinished symphony, forever unfinished. He does not stop. He cannot stop. He laughs until he can’t hear anything else, until tears pour down his face and his chest start to ache because he can’t breathe, can’t breathe, he’s next he’s next he’s going to die now too. 

And he laughs, even as he sees the lava stop flowing, even as he spots the figure cloaked in netherite scream at him, _what have you done what have you done what have you done,_ even as he clutches at his hair and chest and his wheezes turn into hysterical sobbing. 

_White flags,_ he had said two lifetimes ago, _I wanna see white flags, outside your base, by tomorrow, at dawn, or you are DEAD._

Tommy never surrendered, was never the type. Would never surrender even if it killed him. 

And so it did.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with me either on my [tumblr](https://saltwatersweets.tumblr.com/) or my [twitter](https://https://twitter.com/saltwatersweets/) if you want


End file.
